


Waiting By His Phone

by WeAreTheCyclones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, College Student Stiles, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Texting, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAreTheCyclones/pseuds/WeAreTheCyclones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the first party of the first week of college. It’s a brand new world. It’s…. déjà vu. Black lights, glowing paint, loud music and dancing, a pretty girl he just saw kissing another pretty girl not too long ago kissing him, slipping her tongue into his mouth…</p><p>“I thought you liked girls,” he says like he knows the script, totally at the will of this recycled conversation.</p><p>“I do,” she answers, a slight deviation. She leans even closer and Stiles can feel her body heat and smell her shampoo. Her hand lands on his chest. “Do you?”</p><p>“Absolutely…” His breath catches in his throat when she kisses his neck. “So uh, you also like guys, I guess.”</p><p>“Yeah. Do you?” She pulls away to smirk up at him, lips shining and the fluorescent pink hearts rising on her cheeks as she grins.</p><p>Huh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting By His Phone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meeya8587](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Meeya8587).



> FOR MY DARLING MEEYA'S BIRTHDAY which was two weeks ago. 
> 
> Me: "I don't want to make this over 10k."  
> Meeya: "I would have been fine with 500 words :)"  
> Me: "HAHAHA"
> 
> SO anyway, this is for her based off an AU jam we had once where Derek was settled and more well-adjusted and bisexual and Stiles ends up having a very familiar conversation that makes him wonder if he's into guys and then he goes to Derek for advice a lot and then FEELINGS. 
> 
> (The Mature rating is a soft Mature tbh :X)

It’s the first party of the first week of college. It’s a brand new world. It’s…. déjà vu. Black lights, glowing paint, loud music and dancing, a pretty girl he just saw kissing another pretty girl not too long ago kissing him, slipping her tongue into his mouth…

“I thought you liked girls,” he says like he knows the script, totally at the will of this recycled conversation.

“I do,” she answers, a slight deviation. She leans even closer and Stiles can feel her body heat and smell her shampoo. Her hand lands on his chest. “Do you?”

“Absolutely…” His breath catches in his throat when she kisses his neck. “So uh, you also like guys, I guess.”

“Yeah. Do you?” She pulls away to smirk up at him, lips shining and the fluorescent pink hearts rising on her cheeks as she grins.

Huh. 

He hadn’t thought about it when Caitlin asked. Last time, he had barely a second’s worth of thinking “interesting…” before she’d kissed him again. But this time, this phosphorescent stranger seems to be waiting for an answer. And all Stiles can think about is… “Do I?” 

“I uh…” he says. She grins like he’s answered, like the answer is appealing to her. He doesn’t bother trying to say anything else, just drags her back into a kiss. 

“What if I like guys?” Stiles asks the next morning, right as he sits at the table Lydia and Scott are seated at in their coffee shop of choice. Allison edges around him with a drink carrier and sets it in the middle of the table, lifting her eyebrows at hm. “What?” Stiles demands. “What if I do? What if that’s something I’m into? What if I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy? Shouldn’t I have figured this out by now?”

“It’s too early for this,” Lydia mutters, rubbing her temples.

“Didn’t you leave with that girl?” Scott asks. Stiles watches him pull Allison into his lap and sincerely wishes it was that simple. 

“I did.”

And they’d hung out in her room making out for awhile and then they started talking. Stiles started asking questions and they got into this whole… thing. This whole discussion, as if presented by the LGBTQ+ Resource Center on campus… which… the girl, Anna, was actually a student advisor for. Very convenient. 

“So it wasn’t good?”

“We didn’t have sex, we just…” Unpacked his sexual identity crisis a little bit. 

“Talked?” Lydia provides, lifting an interested eyebrow and leaning forward. 

“I’m not planning on marrying her, Christ,” Stiles huffs. “But seriously, what if I like guys?”

“What about it?” Allison asks.

“… Just what if?”

Anna had explained a whole spectrum of identities that Stiles had never really even heard of before, and he’d done a little bit of distracted research on it in his day okay, just not this in depth. He asked her a lot about being bisexual and something in it just struck him.

“That’d be fine,” Allison says, shrugging. “We’d support it, right guys?” She looks between Scott and Lydia who both nod. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “If I’m fine with you guys being—“ he waves his hand at them “—what you are, then you better be fine with me being… whatever I am.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Okay so what’s the question?”

“Just… _what if_?”

After a couple more rounds of pretty much the same set of questions and responses, Lydia gets frustrated and refocuses their breakfast back to studying as the intention had been. When they get up to leave, Scott bumps Stiles’ shoulder with his and gives him that meaningful, understanding best friend face of his.

“You should try it and see,” he says. “We’re in college, right? That’s the time and place for all this, you know.”

The first time Stiles kisses a guy is a landmark occasion. They’re at a party, again, and when Stiles sees this guy across the room his heart goes _thunk_. That. That is the guy. Taller than Stiles, dark hair, winning grin. Fuck.

And that guy sees Stiles staring and smirks and his eyes travel up and down Stiles’ body. Stiles hopes there’s nothing on his shirt. He hopes there’s nothing on his face. He hopes his jeans aren’t too tight in the wrong way…

But by the end of the night he’s in the middle of the living room, in the middle of a crowd of drunk young adults, kissing this guy. Full on tongues and lips and teeth and roaming hands and everything. His mouth tastes like alcohol and he smells like aftershave and he feels great underhand. It’s all around a _very good_ thing.

“I don’t even remember his name,” Stiles tells his friends the next afternoon when they’re lazing around his and Scott’s dorm room.

“Okay but how was the kissing?” Allison asks.

“It was great!”

“What was it like?” Scott asks. 

“Uh, like kissing. But… a dude instead. A tall dude. A very attractive dude.”

“So you like guys! Confirmed!” Lydia says, sounding pleased. 

Stiles flops onto his back across his unmade bed. Lydia peers down into his face, expectant look on her face.

“I guess so.”

“What do you mean you guess so?” Scott asks.

“I don’t know, what if he was just a good kisser? What if he was exceptionally hot? Like… Scott, you know how you say you’d be down if Zac Efron asked you out? Maybe it’s like that.”

Allison looks at Scott, hiding an amused look behind her hand. Scott nods sagely.

“You need more data,” Lydia say simply. 

So more data he gets. In the form of a guy in one of his lectures and another guy who slips him his phone number at a football game and the guy who is always restocking books at the library when Stiles is there studying and a couple other guys at a couple different parties…

**

Derek’s in charge of the turkey for Christmas dinner. He’s told this is a high honor, because Stiles told him that “the Sheriff never trusts another man with the bird,” with a very serious nod. Scott sets to mashing potatoes, Melissa supervises and smiles fondly at her son, Stiles argues with his father over how many marshmallows to pour over the yams. 

Derek focuses on the sounds of Melissa's voice, Scott's murmuring, the Stilinskis arguing playfully, the electric mixer, and the Christmas carols playing from the other room. The effect is a homey, warm hum that makes Derek smile down at the kitchen timer while he waits. 

“It’s Christmas, Stiles, not a god damn health seminar. I watched you take down an entire bag of those infernal spicy Cheetos without so much as batting an eye I—“

“Fine. Fine!” 

Derek tilts his head to look at them and sees nothing but smiles between them. Melissa snorts and ruffles Scott’s hair before turning back to a tray of vegetables. 

It’s comfortable and warm and _nice_ to be here. 

He’s basting the turkey when he gets a volley of texts that make his phone flash over and over again on the counter next to him. 

“Whoa, Mr. Popular,” Stiles teases. 

Derek scoffs but smiles down at the Christmas greetings from his friends.

“Who are those from?” Stiles asks, closer. 

“My friends.”

“You have friends?” he asks, frowning like he’s upset that he’s had this information kept from him.

“Uh huh.”

“From where?”

“I grew up in this town, I work in this town, I live in this town,” Derek explains, humoring him but making sure he sounds as put-upon as Stiles would expect. 

Stiles smiles. “Alright, alright, I get it.” 

After dinner, the girls escape from their own families to join Scott and Stiles in the living room to watch movies and share their candy offerings from their stockings. Derek starts gathering his things to head out to leave them to it.

“Just stay, finish A Christmas Story at least,” Stiles asks from within a nest of pillows. 

So he does. The kids mostly talk over the movie but Derek doesn’t mind. He practically has the movie memorized from when he was a kid anyway.

“I’ve been texting Danny a lot,” Stiles says, catching Derek’s attention.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Scott says, rubbing his face. “I don’t want to hear about that hook up if it happens, you hear me? I don’t want any details about people we’ve known since childhood, that’s where I draw the line.”

“I mean you’ve known me since childhood so teeechnically you always hear about someone you’ve known since childhood,” Stiles counters.

“You know what I mean, dude.”

Stiles huffs. “Fine. I won’t tell you. But what I was going to say was that he has a boyfriend back at school so I’m tough out of luck for New Years, thanks for your support, Scott.”

Derek tries not to pay attention to this, but he can’t help but swivel his head from the TV and toward him as he talks.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Oh, you don’t know about this new development?” Lydia asks. “Our boy likes boys. Sometimes.”

“Maybe,” Stiles adds with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Since when?” Derek asks, inwardly cringing at how accusatory it sounds.

“Uh, I don’t know, hard to pinpoint what with all the monster movies of the week we lived through,” he snaps back. 

Derek opens his mouth to snark back but closes it again, tries to think of something more helpful to say and settles on, “What do you mean, _maybe_?”

“I mean… court’s still out. Why do you care?”

Derek shrugs. “I uh… know where you’re coming from, I guess,” he says, resolutely turning his gaze back to the TV. 

Everyone falls dead silent and he can feel their eyes on him.

“Wait,” Stiles says after awhile. “You’re…? You like guys?”

“Bisexual,” Derek provides as casually as he can force himself to sound. 

Silence for another stretch… and then Allison clears her throat.

“Stiles, Derek would probably be a really good resource for you… better than we are sometimes. You know, considering…” 

Derek slowly turns back toward them and sees Stiles looking at him with open curiosity.

“Uh, yeah,” Derek says. “You can um. Talk to me if you want. You have my number.”

Stiles nods slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

The first time Stiles utilizes that offer is in the middle of the night the first Friday they’re all back at school.

“So can I ask you sex questions or is that too much?” 

Derek snorts, rolls his eyes and rolls over onto his stomach to answer. “Ask away.”

“Hand jobs are basically just like… jerking off but someone else, am I right? Is that a fair assumption? Because I think I’m about to be required to give one.”

“Yeah basically. You’re never required to give a hand job or do anything else, btw.”

“Btw? Look at you, gramps,” comes the first cheeky response. “And okay, I don’t mean like REQUIRED. I mean like I’m about to give this guy a hand job because that’s where this night is going. But thank you for your concern. I should probably stop texting and get to it. Wish me luck!”

“Channel your former self, the boy who used to beat off nonstop, and you’ll be fine. Good luck.”

Stiles’ response is nothing but sunglasses wearing emojis.

**

Stiles doesn’t bother knocking when he bursts into Allison and Lydia’s room, already talking.

“—And he was so _cute_ and blushy when he asked but I’m not sure if that’s where I’m at right now? Like yeah, dude, someone regular to fuck around with is all fine and great but I’m _experimenting_ and sowing my wild oats right now, so should I do this?” He stops, drops his backpack and puts his hands on his hips. He waits for an answer.

Scott enters the room at a slower pace and calmly sets the two full drink carriers on Allison’s desk. The girls blink up at him from their desks.

“What is he talking about?” Lydia asks, turning to Scott.

“Daniel asked him out,” Scott supplies. 

“Daniel the barista?” Lydia asks, incredulous. 

“It took us twenty damn minutes to get our drinks because he kept trying to get the heart-shaped latte art right so—“ Scott gestures. “Enjoy the free drinks, ladies.”

“One of those looks like a dick, I personally think that’d have been just as effective,” Stiles says, pointing vaguely. 

“He asked you out with latte art?” Allison asks, curiously peeking under the lid of one. “That’s cute! What’s the issue?”

“Stiles, he’s hot. He has tattoos. He’s like the hipster prince of the MFA writing program,” Lydia gushes. Stiles narrows his eyes at her. “I maybe stalked him on Facebook.”

“Okay but should I date him?” he asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket at the same time to ask Derek the same question. 

“Do you want to?” Lydia asks.

“I don’t know, hold on.”

“Are you asking Derek?” Allison asks.

“Yes,” he answers shortly, waiting for Derek’s response. 

“Do you like him?” Derek asks.

“He’s cute.”

“But do you like him?”

“I might,” Stiles answers after awhile.

“So give it a shot.”

Stiles informs all present what Derek has said and after not too much debate, Stiles decides to go for it. 

And it’s good, really. It’s different than the one girlfriend Stiles had for a few months in high school, where Stiles was pumped about doting on her and being the gentlemen. But in this case, him being older and all, Daniel likes to do the doting. Likes to show up with coffee and pastries after his shifts, likes to recommend books and movies and stuff, likes to have Stiles over at his studio apartment… Which Stiles also likes.

Stiles, however, doesn’t like meeting his friends and hearing himself described as “young and naïve” because he didn’t have the attention span for some extracurricular reading of a dense philosophical tome Daniel had suggested. He doesn’t like the way Daniel looks down his nose at Scott, Lydia and Allison.

But hey. The blow jobs are great. 

Like really great. And Stiles is surprised to find that he’s actually a big fan of being on the giving end of things there too. 

“Derek, I hate him,” Stiles types out and erases a handful of times before settling on: “I don’t think this is working.” He rests his phone on his forehead and groans at the ceiling, waiting for it to vibrate with his answer.

“You don’t think what is working?”

“Daniel and me.”

“Why not?”

Stiles hasn’t consulted him about much since getting with Daniel, save for one manic conversation about blow job techniques early on. He hasn’t really texted Derek at all. 

“He’s a jerk. And not your brand of jerk, I can handle you. He can be a total douchebag.”

“To you? How?”

“He’s not mean to me, but he’s such a snob and his friends are so boring and everything they talk about is over my head and I feel like I’m his little kept boy, like he’s trying to train me or something. It’s only fun sometimes and I don’t think I even care about him that much anyway. Should I break up with him?”

“If you want to.”

“If I want to? Derek, please be more helpful.”

“You already know what you want to do, just do it. You’re not happy with him, you don’t have feelings for him, so… then the logical conclusion is…?”

“To break up with him.”

Derek answers with a single thumbs up emoji. Stiles sends the slanty mouthed one back. 

When they break up (loudly and publicly outside of a party full of snobby grad students), Stiles is mostly just thankful for the experience and knowledge gained. He texts Derek as he storms off to his car afterward.

“It’s handled.”

“It being the hit someone contracted you to do or your relationship?”

“Relationship, wise guy. You know I can’t talk about my assassin gig,” Stiles answers, biting down a smile. 

**

“Dicks are so nice.”

Derek stutters mid-sentence and squints down at his phone. “Uh…” he says. 

Alex tilts her head. “Derek?”

“Sorry, just uh… got a weird text. Hold on…” He feels her eyes on him the entire time he answers Stiles with: “Uh, yeah and?”

“Dicks are nice, that’s all. I haven’t had sex yet, by the way, but damn this guy’s dick makes me want to.”

“Are you texting me while blowing someone?”

“Oh, no, we’ve been sexting. SEXTING, Derek. It’s a whole new world. Should I send him a picture of myself too is that the next step here?”

He snorts and slides his phone back into his pocket for later. “Sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Alex says, smirking at him. “Who was that?”

“No one.”

“No one makes you really smiley then, huh?”

Huh? 

His phone vibrates in his pocket again and he knows that it’s Stiles demanding a response. “It’s just some kid, he comes to me for advice sometimes,” Derek says. His phone vibrates again.

Alex “uh huh”s skeptically and nudges him and seems to sense that he’s done talking about it because she continues talking about helping their friends plan their wedding. Derek’s phone vibrates again and again.

When he checks later, he reads through a few furious demands for answers, a “okay I just did it anyway I hope this doesn’t end up on the internet? Why didn’t I think about that before I sent this? Derek what the fuck?” and a “Ooh, he likes my dick too. This was a great idea.” 

“I’m glad it all worked out,” Derek answers about an hour after Stiles’ last text.

“Where were you when I needed you?”

“Discussing a wedding.”

“Whose??”

Derek considers shrugging him off, keeping the wall between his personal life and the life Stiles is privy to structurally sound but… He ends up telling him all about it, right down to Jessica sobbing at Alex on the phone because peonies won’t be in season during their fall wedding but she’s always wanted a fall wedding and how Alex suspects Jess might be pregnant but Derek knows she isn’t.

“This is the most normal adult shit I’ve ever heard from you,” Stiles says at the end of it. “Weddings and things. :)”

“And you talking about sexting is one of the most normal young adult things I’ve ever heard from you,” Derek counters, smiling to himself. 

From there on out, Derek feels obligated to keep him updated from time to time, like when Jess settles on dahlias and baby’s breath instead of peonies and when the happy couple breaks up for a couple hours over the fact that Frank doesn’t like chocolate cake but gets back together when they realize they both like the mocha flavor best anyway.

“I can’t imagine planning a wedding or getting married, but it must be nice,” Stiles says. “Aside from cake disagreements and stuff.”

“Yeah, they’re excited deep down.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for awhile so Derek assumes the conversation over. He has enough time to finish his lunch, get back in his car and drive back to work before Stiles answers.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“What? No.”

“Wedding fever not getting to you, then?”

“God no.”

Derek hasn’t actually dated since New York, since before coming back to Beacon Hills, since Adam. He, with the help of his therapist, has decided not to really count Jennifer, all things considered. But he’s definitely not interested in _dating_ anyway.

“Dating is overrated, trust me. ;)” Stiles says after awhile.

**

Stiles has been tempted to text Derek before he even gets his pants back on before, but this time he actually can’t resist the urge.

“I am trash,” he says, casting a glance at his sleeping partner while he waits for a response.

“Why?”

“I just hooked up with my lab partner who I have NO ATTRACTION TO because I was DESPERATE AND HORNY and I feel like garbage and I’m going to have to sit next to this kid for the rest of the year.”

Stiles carefully gets out of bed and watches to make sure he stays asleep. He pulls his clothes on and gets to the door before Derek responds.

“Sucks.”

“Sucks? You’re supposed to be helpful at least a little bit sometimes, Derek. What do I do?”

“Does he have feelings for you?”

“Nah.”

“Play it off.”

“Play it off? I almost let this loser fuck me okay, how does one play that off?”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

“You’ll be fine,” Derek says. “There isn’t much I can do. Why do you regret this more than any of the others?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits, texting as he slips out the front door of the guy’s apartment.

He gets into the Jeep and takes a second to think about it. He’s pressing call before he even has a fully articulated argument.

“You’re awake,” Stiles says when Derek answers with a grumbly greeting.

“I’ve been texting you back, haven’t I?”

“Yeah but you have to be a little more awake to actually answer a call at this time of night, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Derek says. “What’s up?”

It’s nice to actually hear a voice on the other end of the phone, Stiles realizes. It feels a little more reassuring.

“It just feels so empty, I think that’s why I’m regretting it more than usual. Maybe it always feels empty but this one… I don’t know, but it’s… depressing.”

“Yeah,” Derek answers softly. “I know what you mean.”

“Maybe it’s because the other times I really want it and it’s someone I don’t necessarily have to see all the time and I’m usually a little tipsy or… way drunk, you know how it is… Do you? I don’t think you know how it is, you can’t get drunk.”

Derek laughs on the other end. “We have our ways.”

“I’m telling Scott and Scott is going to blow your door down to get that information, just a warning.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “But are you saying you didn’t want it this time? Are you okay?”

“Nothing like that, _dad_. I mean that it’s not like I planned on it, it just happened.”

“Gotcha.”

Stiles groans noisily into the phone and hits his head against the head rest a few times.

“Go home, shower, go to bed, wake up and talk about it with the others, you’ll feel like you’re in a typical indie comedy movie and everyone will laugh at you and you’ll be fine,” Derek says. 

“Okay,” Stiles says.

“And make better choices next time.”

“Yeah, yeah, screw you,” Stiles mutters, finally reaching to put his keys in the ignition. “Thanks, Derek.”

“Uh huh, night.”

“Night.”

And Stiles takes his suggestion very seriously the next morning. He marches bravely into the coffee shop with Scott in tow, sits down with the girls at their usual spot, and boldly tells the story of the night before. They laugh at him and tease him and he already feels better about it. He almost tells them that he called Derek afterward but chooses not to and he’s not sure why.

About a week later, Derek asks him how things are with his lab partner. Stiles is happy to report that the weirdness passed pretty quickly. 

**

It takes a long time for Derek to really recognize that he feels a creeping sense of _concern_ and _worry_ for Stiles and his escapades. But something about Stiles telling him about letting a professor jerk him off really brings it to the surface.

“I hope you’re learning that sex is never just sex and that it has consequences that extend far beyond the reach of the instant gratification of an orgasm. How old is this guy? Was he taking advantage of you? That’s not something that is always readily apparent, Stiles. Was it for a grade? Was he being manipulative? Were you being manipulative? Things like this can ruin careers and your educational opportunities, you idiot. And have you been getting tested? You should really be getting tested regularly. I hope you’re intimately familiar with your student health clinic. I get that you’re young and experimenting and figuring yourself out but you need to be careful and you need to take care of yourself, you hear me?” Derek hits send before he can chicken out.

“Whoa, pops. Spare the lecture.”

Derek grinds his teeth and tosses his phone at the couch. He stomps into the kitchen and yanks the fridge open. He hears his text tone go off in the other room and resolutely ignores it. It goes off again and again and again and Derek is already mad about everything Stiles is probably saying, knowing that it’ll be nothing more than pigheaded willful, youthful ignorance and disregard and—then the phone starts actually ringing.

Derek slams the fridge shut and goes to face the infuriating conversation that lies ahead like an adult so he can lead by example or something.

“What?” Derek barks.

“Whoa,” Scott says. “He’s really mad,” he says, holding the phone away from his face. Derek hears Stiles grumbling in the background. “Stiles told me to tell you to read his texts.” Derek hears a “and fuck the hell off” from Stiles, but Scott doesn’t repeat it. “Okay, that’s it. Bye.”

Derek rolls his eyes at both of them for his own benefit and braces himself.

The first message after the “spare the lecture” one is a picture of… Derek has to take a second glance to confirm… test results, dated a week ago. The next is a very lengthy, curse riddled explanation about the professor not even teaching at his school and how he hadn’t known until afterward and that he was pretty young and how he was a “goddamn fucking gentleman UNLIKE YOU, asshole.”

And then there’s the stream of conscious “why do I even care that you care? Why do you even care? I mean I’m glad you care EVEN IF IT PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF SOMETIMES. Or. Well, not usually. Just this one time. I DON'T NEED YOU TO BE A JUDGMENTAL ASSHOLE. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE /HERE FOR ME/. I mean you usually are. Or. Always. You always are. And I guess… this is also you being there for me? But honestly, Derek, fuck you, alright?”

And then the last message is. “Okay, no I take that back. Thank you for your concern. I’m fine. I am being careful. You’ve taught me well, Obi Wan. I’m sorry. But still, fuck you a little bit.”

Derek deflates. “You make Grandpa Hale very nervous sometimes,” he answers.

“I’m flattered that Grandpa Hale cares so much,” Stiles answers. 

“You should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Are you sorry?” Stiles asks, never one to mince words to get what he wants. Which in this case is an apology. Which Derek should indeed offer up even if he still stands by what he said.

“I am.”

“Good.”

Derek taps the edges of his phone in thought while he tries to figure out a good way to move past the awkwardness. 

“I’m still going to torture you with my sex questions, so if you were trying to shake me off this wasn’t the way to do it,” Stiles says before he comes up with anything.

“I’m still going to answer your torturous sex questions.” 

And he does, every single one of them. He tries not to feel too worried, he tries to trust that Stiles is mostly responsible and not stupid. Stiles even reminds him that he’s being responsible sometimes in sorta weird ways like…

“Ribbed condoms. Thoughts?”

“Useless for people not having penetrative sex.”

“Rude,” Stiles answers. “I’m trying to be a prepared and responsible adult, Derek. Ribbed or no?”

Derek rolls over in bed to get to his bedside table where his underused supply resides. He opens the drawer and takes a picture. “If someone relies on ribbed for pleasure, they’re doing something wrong. Just my opinion.”

“Gotcha.” 

**

Stiles lives the rest of his life knowing which condoms Derek prefers. He will never be the same. He’s not sure why that information is so… wow. He knows Scott’s preferred condoms and that has never inspired any feelings whatsoever. 

But anyway, he hits a dry spell so substantial that he starts digging for reasons to text Derek. He’s not even sneaky about it. He asks for wedding updates, for fuck’s sake. 

And after a couple weeks of that, when finals and summer are drawing near… Stiles has sex. With a guy. The night before the weekend before finals. With a guy. Sex. Stiles has it. Wow.

It feels poetic this way. He had started the year off wondering if maybe he did like guys, spent a lot of free time figuring out that yes he very much so did. And then the blow out party at some frat house and the guy and just enough booze to feel emboldened and the _kissing_ and the _heavy petting_ …

And then sex. 

Sex.

_Sex._

With a guy.

Lube, condoms, fingering, moaning and groaning and sweating, nakedness, a dick… an actual _dick_ belonging to another _male_ inside of him. Inside. Like… sex.

And it had been stellar. 

That’s all Stiles can think about as he drags his feet into the dining commons to meet his friends. Scott had left him high and dry half an hour ago, claiming there was no way in hell he was going to miss the waffle station this time just because of Stiles’ hangover. Hangover? Not even, Scotty boy, not even.

He drops his backpack on the floor by their table, moves as if through water, sits, props his head up on his hands and stares deeply into Lydia’s eyes, only because she so happens to be across from him. He would have done the same to anyone.

“Stiles,” she greets warily, eyes shifting to Allison and Scott before settling back on him.

“I had sex,” he says.

That shocks a little “oh!” out of Lydia before she smirks at him. “Okay.”

Okay? That’s it? Okay?? “No.”

“Not okay?” Scott asks, concern rising up in his voice.

“No. So okay, great even.”

“… Okay,” Allison says slowly.

“No, not just sex. That’s why it’s not just okay. Guys.” He stops and leans forward for dramatic effect. They all lean forward too. “I had sex with a guy.”

Allison shakes her head, a grin spreading across her face as she leans back. “Good job, champ.”

Lydia pushes her chocolate muffin toward him like it’s a reward. “How was it?”

“You used protection, right?” Scott asks, stern.

“Thank you, _ooh thank you_ , it was great, and yes I did,” he says to Allison, the muffin, Lydia and Scott in turn. “Guys, he had such a great dick though? Like I can now make educated, experienced judgment calls about dicks. Real, fully formed opinions. And I mean, dicks that aren’t mine even. My dick is great. It serves me well. But other people’s dicks, guys. So good.”

Scott nods once, attentive. Lydia nods in agreement, smiling. Allison’s eyes slide over to Scott and smirks. 

“I’m going to pass all my finals, ace all my classes and spend a summer getting thoroughly dicked. Did I say that I was thoroughly dicked last night? Like I got held down and _fucked_.”

Scott claps him on the back. “Congrats. Now eat your breakfast so we can go study.”

It doesn’t strike him until they’re settled into the library and then he feels _bad_ for not having remembered sooner. Derek needs to know.

“Derek, guess who got fucked? :D”

“Good morning to you too,” Derek answers.

“Yeah yeah yeah, but Derek. Sex. I had it.”

“Congrats.”

Stiles frowns at his phone and tries for another approach. “Don’t you want to know how it was?”

He waits for the response but it takes so long that Lydia kicks him to get him to put his phone away and hit the books. He doesn’t look at it again until they crawl out of the hovel in search of a late lunch.

“Of course,” Derek had answered about twenty minutes after Stiles had asked. “I hope it was great,” he had sent after Stiles hadn’t responded.

“It was and it was weird, you never warned me that it was weird,” Stiles fires back, grinning at his phone.

**

Derek tries his best not to crinkle his nose at his newly returned teens. They’re all sweating out the night before, stinking of alcohol and god knows what else. Scott looks like he’s used to it, and he probably is. The older, more worldly side of him is glad that they’re suffering through their post-party hangover where he can see it. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Stiles says, appearing at the table in a gust of air that smells like the rest of them but with the woodsy undercurrent of sex added in. “Good morning, good morning.”

“Where were you?” Scott asks.

“He went home with Danny,” Lydia says before Stiles can offer up the information himself.

Stiles smirks proudly. “Sure did.”

Scott rolls his eyes but smiles fondly before scooting over for Stiles to sit. 

“Derek, hey,” he says, acknowledging him for the first time. His eyes go soft and affectionate, his smile gentle and authentic.

Derek smiles back and looks down at his menu. From here, Derek can catch a full whiff of the intermingling, um… intimate scents of two people. Scott comments on it and the rest of the table laughs. Derek continues pretending to look at his menu.

But when their orders are placed and the menus are gone, Derek gets a good look at Stiles and the hickey blooming just at the edge of his collar. He doesn’t know why he feels a surge of frustration, it’s not like he doesn’t know more about this kid’s sex life than anyone should. 

“Good night?” Derek asks.

“Great night!” Stiles answers. “Guys, I could have been sleeping with Danny for years now,” he says, addressing the whole table.

“Confirm or deny,” Erica’s voice cuts through. Derek looks up to see her pointing at Stiles with her fork. “Is Danny’s dick as big as rumored?”

“There are rumors about Danny’s dick?” Stiles asks.

Erica snorts. “You gossiped in the wrong circles.”

“My entire circle of gossip in high school is seated at this table and most of that gossip was about supernatural horrors, so, forgive me. But yes.” Stiles sits back and smirks smugly. 

The girls giggle and call for details. Scott groans, begging Stiles not to (“Please, I’ve grown up with the person this dick is attached to, I don’t want to hear this!”), Isaac and Boyd humor it. And Derek stays quiet.

“Oh God, and he did this thing, like a seriously professional move. I would know too, considering I’ve had sex with dudes exactly two times now.” He pauses for their laughter. “I know, I know, I’m a stud. Anyway, he did this thing where he—“

Scott lets out a wail and covers his ears, Stiles keeps on going with gestures and all. Derek tries his best not to feel a little cheated of the type of conversation they would have after something like this.

A couple of days pass without contact from Stiles after that, but Stiles wastes no time getting right down to it.

“Are you a top or bottom?”

Derek squints at his phone in the dark and rereads the question a few times. He locks his screen and shoves his phone back under his pillow and turns over. 

It buzzes again right as Derek’s about to fall back asleep.

“I neeeeeeed to discuss this, seriously I’m not just being gross I swear. But I do just want to know in general. Idk why. But I do.”

Derek answers this time. “Stiles go to bed.”

“I’m technically in a bed right now.”

Derek laughs. “Go to sleep then.”

“No no, I don’t sleep over, that’s against my policy.”

“So then go home and sleep there.”

“Answer my question! You said I could talk to you.”

“It’s late.”

“Never too late for this. I think the later it gets, the more acceptable it is.”

“Good night, Stiles.”

“I’m going to bug you about this in the morning too I hope you know.”

Derek rolls his eyes at his phone and acquiesces to him. “Come over after you’ve SHOWERED and we’ll talk about it.”

“Deal. I have theories I want to discuss. Nighty night, old man.”

Stiles shows up the next day, freshly showered and chipper as hell. “Morning!” he chirps, shoving past Derek to get into loft. 

Derek’s stomach twists with nerves and he’s not sure why. It’s not like this is any more or less invasive than other questions Stiles has asked… though it is a little more direct than usual. Besides, they’ve never had any of these conversations face to face. Derek can’t just bite his knuckle and force the imagery away when Stiles is standing right in front of him. Not that he has to do that too often but still.

“It’s 2,” Derek points out.

“I woke up at 1, its morning. So anyway, top or bottom?”

“Bunk?” Derek asks. Stiles stares at him. “Why does it matter?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the kitchen island. 

Stiles looks like he’s working on a witty response but he ends up sighing instead. “I was just… wondering because, I mean, I haven’t really had a lot of… you know, but I’ve only ever… _received_. Well, no, I mean, well yeah… but I’ve had sex with girls, you know? And that’s probably somewhat similar. But I don’t know how similar. So. I don’t know.” 

Derek just blinks. 

Stiles squirms and squirms until he finally looks back up at Derek. His cheeks are ruddy with embarrassment. Derek’s tempted to give him the old standard “if you can’t even say sex, you shouldn’t be having it” but he knows Stiles doesn’t appreciate it. He’s already used it on him. Twice.

So he answers him instead. “I like both.”

And now Stiles just blinks.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe you’d… never mind. So, both is good? Because bottoming is great, so…”

“Yeah, yeah, topping is good too. It’s not quite the same as sex with girls but you know… it’s good.”

Stiles taps his chin in thought a couple times. “I just _feel_ like a bottom,” he finally says.

Derek doesn’t blush, he definitely doesn’t. And he doesn’t picture it, not for a second. “Uh.”

“I mean, okay, I know there isn’t like… a thing about it. It has nothing to do with personality or whatever, right?”

“Uh, no.”

“It’s just a physical pleasure preference.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should give the other a shot. How can I know if I never try, right? I mean, I wouldn’t even know I liked guys if I didn’t try it.” He wrings his hands anxiously. “Alright, I’m going to try it.” He claps his hands together and strides toward the door, throwing a “thanks!” over his shoulder as he goes.

**

Stiles thinks about Derek having sex, like actually pictures it and enjoys the thought of it, for the first time ever and well… it’s inspiring. The thought of him on his back getting nailed, on his knees doing the nailing, etc, etc. 

Anyway, he gets a few good _alone times_ out of that and then focuses on being less of a sleaze by actually going out and hooking up with a real person. He’s on a mission. He hates to think of it in such clinical terms, but his dick really wants it too, okay?

If he finds the guy on one of those sex apps, he’s not telling anyone but… He does. The guy is shorter and thinner than him, went to the rival high school and graduated the same year, they have a few mutual friends but not enough to be worrisome for either of them. And he very clearly wants Stiles to take control of the situation, so it works.

It works really well.

Very, very well.

As Stiles tells everyone the next day while infesting Derek’s loft.

“You know how I was talking about how nice it is to get held down and fucked?” Stiles asks out of nowhere. 

“This again?” Scott sighs.

“It’s also really nice being the one doing the holding down and fucking.”

Lydia snorts. Allison shakes her head affectionately.

“Jesus,” Derek says. “It doesn’t always have to be a… holding down and fucking thing, you know?”

“But I like the holding down thing!” he argues back. “It’s so good!”

“Of course it is, but so is riding someone or being ridden or the softer stuff,” Derek says with a weary sigh, pulling himself to his feet.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve heard you say and that’s really saying something,” Erica mutters. Derek looks down at her and she shrugs. “Stiles once gave a very convincing rant about how you probably cried your way through sex—“

“Erica!” Stiles barks. “I uh. Um, it was a joke and it was… before. It was a very stressful time and you pissed me off,” he explains when Derek turns his unamused face toward him.

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway, Derek, want to talk about tender sex some more?” Stiles asks, flashing him a grin. Derek’s cheeks flush and he shakes his head. “Great!”

**

Derek doesn’t see the kids too often. Between his own life and theirs, there isn’t a lot of overlap. But he gets more texts from Stiles every day than he had ever before. 

They range from “I’m shopping for lubes, suggestions?” to “I just saw my freshman English teacher at the Jungle and honestly considered trying to hit that, am I going to hell?” Derek always answers. (“Whatever gets the job done, water based.” “Yes.”) 

Even when his cheeks are burning and his imagination threatens to take the questions and run with it. (“Have you ever barebacked?” “Do you really trust your random fuck of the night enough for that?” “No, I’m just asking! Christ.” “Oh. Yeah I have.”) Even when he wants to just laugh at him. (“Dildos?” “Is that a request?” “For an opinion, yes. Asshole.” “Real dicks > Fake dicks.”) Even when he’s genuinely a little concerned. (“My sexual partners went from 2 to 2MANY really quick this summer.” “Please be safe, idiot.”)

So despite all the texting, it’s still surprising to see him in person sometimes. Like every piece of information he gleans from their conversations gets stored somewhere and all of it comes to the forefront, analyzing and painting him over until Derek can’t help but see him a little differently. Derek dropped by Scott’s for a barbeque and he couldn’t help the random flashes of images of him and Stiles in various positions, doing various things tenderly and slowly or fast and rough… Derek’s not entirely sure what it means.

When Stiles knocks on the door one night, Derek knows it’s him by the sound of his heartbeat. When he breezes in past Derek the second he opens it, he brings with him that humid scent of impending rain and lingering heat from outside and a slight vein of anxiety.

“What—“ Derek begins.

“How did you find out you liked guys?” he tosses over his shoulder, heading straight for Derek’s fridge.

“Huh?”

“How did you know?” he asks again, pulling the fridge open and going for a beer. Derek starts to protest but Stiles cuts him off with a stormy look.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks.

He shakes his head, turns back to the fridge to grab the magnetic bottle opener. “Nothing, I’m just curious.”

“ _Bi_ curious?” Derek teases.

“Bi _sexual_. And so are you. So how’d you figure it out?”

He’s serious to a surprising degree, actually. Derek tilts his head at him and watches him take a bracing swig from his bottle. He wants to get to the bottom of it, but he was the one who said Stiles could come to him so… he answers. 

“I had a crush on one of the guys on the baseball team in high school. I thought it was a talent crush or something, but nope. It wasn’t.”

“So you dated some guy in high school?” he asks, sitting heavily on a stool.

“No. I just had a crush on him.”

“So have you ever actually dated a guy?”

“Yeah.” Derek clears his throat uncomfortably, Stiles’ eyes are burning a hole in him.

“So…?” he asks. 

“So what?”

Stiles lets out a frustrated huff and takes another long drink. 

“What’s going on?” Derek asks.

“Are you seeing someone now?” Stiles asks. 

Derek’s stomach twists. “No.”

“Have you? Since… you know.” You know being the Darach, obviously. 

“I uh…” Stiles is watching him, cheeks flushed, Derek feels exposed. “I uh sleep around sometimes.”

“But you don’t date.”

Derek shrugs. 

It’s not like he’s actively choosing to not date. It’s not like he’s looking to date. He’s just… living. 

“Why don’t you tell me when you sleep around?” Stiles asks, staring at his drink.

“I haven’t in awhile, I don’t really make a habit of it.”

Stiles nods, looking weirdly relieved.

“What’s going on?” Derek asks, voice softer than he intends.

Stiles rubs a hand over his face. “I just don’t know if I’m built that way. The one time I dated a guy, it sorta sucked.”

Derek remembers. 

Derek sits finally and takes a long look at him. “It’s okay, you know, if you’re not um…” Romantically inclined? Into dating?

“Don’t pull something, Der,” he laughs. “Tell me about your many boyfriends, cheer me up.” He props his elbow on the tabletop and rests his chin on his fist, a smile almost reaching his eyes.

“Boyfriend,” Derek corrects. “Singular.” Adam. Derek hasn’t talked about Adam out loud to anyone since he moved back from New York after Laura. Not since they broke up.

“Okay, so tell me about the singular boyfriend.”

“He was cool.”

Stiles stares at him blankly, unimpressed.

“Uh, he was… I don’t know, he’s a good guy. Not much to say.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Derek winces a little. “Came back here,” he says with a shrug, hoping that’ll cover all the bases, all the things he doesn’t want to say.

Stiles frowns a little, nods. “Gotcha. Well. Sorry.”

He tilts his head down toward the table and the new angle of the light on his face casts long shadows of his eyelashes along his cheeks. The downward curve of his mouth looks soft and pliant. Derek shakes his arms out and briskly walks to the fridge, inspired by Stiles’ beer. Not that it’ll do anything for him. 

He’s mid-drink when Stiles swivels toward him and asks, “What are your thoughts on rimming?”

Derek almost chokes. 

These sorts of questions are better over text messages. Where Derek can gather his wits, beat away the images, sometimes um… _beat away_ the images… But now he has to answer.

“What?”

Stiles lifts an eyebrow. “I mean, does it feel good? Receiving it?”

He doesn’t have that mocking, seductive tone he usually takes on for these sorts of questions. He doesn’t even seem clinically interested. He has the same mood as before, that almost sad, anxious thing.

“Uh, I… it um…”

“Is this the question that breaks you?” Stiles asks, flashing a humorless smile.

Derek shakes his head for lack of ability to speak.

“I just, I don’t know, this dude I was with wanted to but I was uncomfortable with it so I turned him down, but it really got me thinking.”

“Uh, well I mean, good job setting boundaries and maintaining them that’s important to do if you’re uh going to be out there uh… experimenting or you know. Having. Um. Sex with people,” Derek mostly stutters. 

Stiles shakes his head once, impatient. “Right, but is it good? Does it feel good?”

He feels wrong for picturing it. For picturing Stiles lying on his stomach in Derek’s bed, Derek’s hands all over him, soothing him while he whispers encouragements, kissing his way down his spine… And he feels wrong for the small flame of fury that licks at his insides when he imagines some other guy just going for it, just asking him and getting his permission and not taking their time with him. 

“Derek?” Stiles asks. “Is this like a trigger or a humiliating kink of yours, what’s going on? You don’t have to answer.”

“Rimming can be good,” Derek finally answers.

“What do you mean _can be_? Because I can’t imagine ever being comfortable enough with another person to even want that. Like I cannot just have a random person that up in my personal business, you know? It freaks me out. And I try to picture myself with like… a boyfriend or whatever, and I honestly can’t. But I can’t really picture myself with a girl either. I’m just… whatever, I mean, trust. Right? Like how can you just trust a person? Not that I don’t trust people, but… my life, our lives, are not simple and they don’t really make sense and I don’t want to keep secrets but I also don’t want to open everyone up to the threat of some random person who may or may not be a mythological beast or a hunter of mythological beasts… it’s… anyway, rimming. What do you mean it _can be_ good?”

Derek blinks at him, fights to keep his heart from sinking, feels his jealousy morph into a different kind of jealousy, maybe.

“I mean, if you’re uncomfortable it’s just awkward. More so than other things, you know.” He doesn’t address the rest of that rant because he can’t. He understands his reservations 100%. That’s why he broke up with Adam. He couldn’t bring him into this. 

Stiles sighs, spins his beer bottle in his hands, stares at the table. “Gotcha.”

“Are you alright?” Derek asks, wanting to shuffle closer to him but refusing to.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. “It just feels really empty sometimes.”

“Yeah it does,” Derek agrees, remembering the last time he snuck out of someone’s bedroom and walked to his car by himself in some sleepy neighborhood. He remembers the last time he and Stiles had this conversation too and notices that it’s different. 

Stiles looks up at him, eyes focused and sharp on him. He shakes his head after awhile and looks away. “Sorry, I’ve just never had my comfort levels tested before, I’m just shaken up. He was really cool about it though, so that was fine. It just, like I said, made me think. You know, what’s it like with someone you love? Or care a lot about. I can never just let my guard down. Even with Danny, just because I was so worried about not embarrassing myself with this guy I’ve known forever.”

“It’s like you’re always performing,” Derek supplies. 

Stiles nods. “Yeah. But I think that’s why I asked you about boyfriends. Like… is it different? Was it better? Did you feel totally safe and sure and free? Did you love him? Did he love you back? What’s _that_ like?”

Derek takes a centering breath and rests his head on his crossed arms on the table to force himself to look totally casual even if he doesn’t feel it. “It’s different and better, yeah. And yeah we loved each other. And uh, it was good.” 

“A glowing recommendation,” Stiles mutters, smirking half-heartedly.

Derek sits straight up and looks at him as seriously as he can. “Sex with someone you love is a whole new level.”

Stiles nods thoughtfully. “Well, uh, thanks for the talk. I should go.” He shoves his half empty bottle of beer toward Derek. Derek does his best to give him an irritated look when he goes to pour the rest out. Stiles sees right through it. “Hey, you’re the one who let the underage Sheriff’s son drink on your property, stop pressuring me.”

Derek rolls his eyes, Stiles grins his first grin of the night. And then he leaves.

The summer continues, Stiles’ sometimes worryingly explicit texts taper off but their communication stays strong. Stiles sends him links to articles about bisexuality and asks his opinion about them. Stiles sends him pictures of an array of celebrities and asks how hot on a scale of one fire emoji to a whole block of fire emojis they are.

And then Stiles asks Derek to come to the bar with him.

“How does the Sheriff’s son keep getting into this bar with a fake ID? Hasn’t your dad posted a DO NOT ENTERTAIN THIS IDIOT poster everywhere in town yet?”

“Listen here, Hale,” he answers. A few minutes later his follow up comes: “I’m very cute and very charming. I think if you came out with me and saw me in my natural habitat you would agree. I can con my way into the bar but I cannot con my way into getting served unless someone buys for me and I knoooow you want to buy me a drink. We’ve been through a lot this year. And by we, I mean I have dragged you through a lot of embarrassing questions for both of us and you should buy me a drink. And you are very hot and will probably be able to land any dude in there so you should live a little. If you want. Please come out with me.”

Derek considers it. He considers watching Stiles dance and seeing other men’s hands on him and imagines spending a whole night chasing people away from him because they’re too old or they give Derek the creeps or they’re not good enough for him. He imagines the fight they would have afterward, Stiles’ cheeks flushed and eyes dark and mad. He imagines kissing him and telling him he wants to be the one to take him home and blah blah blah, the thought is embarrassing. 

“Make Scott go with you,” he answers.

“He’s busy.”

So he asked him already.

“Ask the girls.”

“Derek, c’mon.”

“Not my scene, sorry.”

“You’re going to let me go alone?”

“Call Danny.”

“Fine.”

Derek stews in jealousy and low-grade regret for the rest of the night. The next morning he waits as long as he thinks is acceptable before texting him to check in, to make sure he’s okay and home safe.

“How was last night?”

“Didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t want to.”

**

Stiles doesn’t talk to Derek for a couple of days and he’s not sure why at first. He initially thinks it’s just… irritation at being turned down. And then he thinks it’s betrayal because Derek had promised he’d answer his questions and be there for him, but then Stiles reminds himself that that doesn’t mean he promised to answering his commands. And Stiles didn’t want it to be that way anyway. And then Stiles sorta hopes that Derek just didn’t want to watch Stiles fuck around out of jealousy or something. But he wasn’t… going to fuck around. That hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to go out and hang out with Derek. And who’s to say that Derek would be jealous? 

It’s all pretty confusing.

So he doesn’t talk to him, he doesn’t unpack it, he doesn’t think about it. He spends time with his friends and his father and that’s it. He deserves a small vacation from sexual experimentation and maddening Derek-related thoughts.

But that doesn’t mean he’s above reading back over his and Derek’s conversations to revisit some of the more, uh, _inspiring_ things. Because he clearly has a problem. Thinking about Derek in some of these positions… Stiles is a healthy young man, okay? He can’t be faulted for imagining Derek giving a blow job or giving him one when he looks over their back-and-forth about it. Derek’s a good looking guy.

And he reads the other stuff too. Like Derek telling him to be careful and lecturing him and telling him to text him when he gets home so he knows he’s okay. And Stiles sees his own messages straying away from the sorts of questions you’d go to Google for and ambling towards affectionate. Stiles promised to find him a good boy to love on him, Stiles sending him movie recommendations and asking him about his life. 

So after a few days, Stiles really misses him. Like… a bone deep sort of missing where he wishes he hadn’t started not talking to him in the first place because how do you just go about starting things up like nothing had happened?

Nothing had happened at all, it was just Stiles not realizing why he was hurt at the time. But he realizes it now. 

“You like Derek,” Scott says simply when Stiles tries to talk to him about his frustrations. He hadn’t really meant to go so far as to confess that to Scott but…

“I…” he starts, ready to dispute it. “Do, yeah…I do like him.”

Scott raises his eyebrows like he’s surprised Stiles actually admitted it. Stiles is surprised too.

“Wow,” he says, sinking further into the couch. “I like Derek.”

“Yeah,” Scott agrees.

“I like him a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Ooooh yeah, I got it bad.”

They come to no conclusions about what to do about it, but Stiles feels weirdly at peace with the whole situation by the time Scott leaves. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and decides to text Derek.

“Jockstraps, yea or nay?”

“Christ, Stiles,” comes Derek’s instant response. 

A couple days later, Stiles spends the entire morning leading up to the Fourth of July barbecue making potato salad. He never wants to see or smell potato salad ever again. His father, however, works on his famous marinade alongside him and Stiles absolutely wants to smell that all the time. Scott shows up carrying an entire cooler packed full of meat like it’s nothing, crinkles his nose at Stiles, tells him he smells like mayonnaise, and advises that he showers.

“Who cares, I’ll be smelling like a barbecue all day anyway, not everyone has a werewolf sense of smell—”

“Derek’s coming.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, instantly heading upstairs.

He ignores a solid ten minutes of his father’s scrutinizing gaze when he drives them all to the barbecue. He can feel a question bubbling when they get there and drop off their food, but Stiles grabs Scott and runs when one of Beacon Hills’ little old ladies strikes up a conversation with his dad.

Scott shoots him a judgmental look that he’s going to hear about later, but they find their group of friends before it can come up. Derek’s leaning against a tree with his sunglasses on, looking devastating and Stiles’ heart starts beating faster. Scott elbows him.

It’s just like every other year at this thing – a weird mix of country and doo-wop music playing, more food than anyone knows what to do with, the same old ladies quilting and swearing like sailors, the same old men marveling over each other’s fancy old cars. And it’s just as pleasant as always. Stiles, Allison and Lydia take turns sneaking beers away from the adults and the werewolves amongst them glower about the ineffectiveness of it. Derek disappears with a group of similarly aged people for awhile which makes them all gape at him in shock. A beautiful girl with big curly hair wraps her arm around his waist and snuggles into his side as they walk away. 

“Oooh, jealousy,” Erica says, turning a smirk his way. Stiles denies it.

Derek’s back with them by the time the nerve-wracking firework display starts and Stiles is decently tipsy and very, very glad to see Derek. His sunglasses are hanging from the neck of his v-neck and he’s smiling and loose and relaxed. Stiles tells him that he’s glad he has friends and Derek knocks his hand out from under him so he falls back onto the blanket. 

“Who was the girl?” Stiles asks, laughing up at Derek when Derek bends over him to taunt him. 

“Which?”

“The one who was all over you?”

“Jess, the bride to be,” Derek says, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. “Jealous?”

Stiles _pfffft_ s and sits up, shoving Derek away. “She’s hot and suuuper taken, so yeah maybe a little.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“Baaarf,” Scott says loudly, drawing everyone’s attention toward them. Stiles’ eyes widen, Scott smiles and nods encouragingly. “Too much flirting, not enough celebrating our beautiful nation’s independence, c’mon.”

And with that, the rest of them disappear, giggling and teasing as they go, while Stiles gapes after them. That hadn’t been planned…

**

Derek stares at the pack’s retreating backs in icy terror. Stiles is impossibly still next to him.

“So uh, heh,” Stiles says, uncomfortable. “They’re fired, am I right? Worst uh… worst friends.”

“Not as bad as my friends,” Derek says, looking anywhere but directly at Stiles. 

“What’d they do, let’s talk about them instead of this please.”

Teased him about “the cute one who was looking at you like you hung the moon,” teased him about that being the kid he got all blushy about when he was texting him, teased him about liking them young. (“He’s not that young, we’re joking,” Frank had said when Derek scowled.)

“They uh…” Derek starts, scrambling to make something up. “Nah, they’re just about as bad actually,” he finishes.

“Right. Well. Anyway.”

“Anyway.”

Derek watches the string lights hung in the trees turn on, notes the purpling of the sky, breathes in the scent of s’mores and kettle corn and margarita mix, looks at anything and smells anything other than Stiles.

And then Stiles stretches his leg out to kick Derek’s boot. “I’ve slept with almost all of the available and desirable dude loving dudes in this town, you know?”

“So like… five?” Derek asks, heart sinking as he wonders if this is awkward for Stiles because of how wrong their friends read him. 

Stiles kicks him again, a little harder. “Asshole.”

“Six?” 

“Shut up,” Stiles says, no fire in it thanks to his giggling. _Giggling._

“That’s a very admirable quality for the Sheriff’s son to have.”

“Community outreach,” Stiles answers with a nod.

“So does this mean I’m not available and desirable?” Derek asks, looking down at his lap. He means for it to be a funny thing, but he hears the slight disappointment seeping through and cringes. 

“I did say almost,” Stiles points out. He leans closer to him and knocks his shoulder. He smells amazing up close but Derek doesn’t try to figure anything out from it. Derek shifts his hand just enough to brush his fingertips against Stiles’ pinky. 

And then suddenly Stiles pushes himself into Derek’s space and rests his head on his shoulder, lips close to his neck. “Why have we been talking about sex all summer without having it?”

A shiver passes through Derek and a charged second of silence reigns over them – nothing but distant chatter and country music and breathing.

“I’m not another conquest, Stiles,” Derek says, gently pushing Stiles away.

“You don’t want me?” is what Stiles ends up responding, sounding hurt. 

Derek shifts until he’s sitting cross-legged facing Stiles and gives him a long, hard look. “I do want you.”

“Huh?”

“But I don’t make a habit of one night stands with people I care about.”

“Who said anything about a one night stand?” Stiles asks seriously, studying Derek’s face closely.

Derek studies him right back. Stiles shifts so he’s sitting knee to knee with him. He reaches out tentatively to touch Derek’s hands and Derek can’t resist twining their fingers together. 

“You mean more to me than that,” Stiles continues. 

Derek twists his mouth up in a wry smile. “I know you don’t want to date, and that’s what I would want with you. So—“

“I would date you so hard, Derek Hale,” Stiles interrupts, stumbling over his words. “I would. I know I said I couldn’t see myself with anyone, but I can see myself with you no problem. You are…” He struggles to find words to say just what Derek is, but seems to fail. So he leans forward and kisses Derek on the cheek. He pulls away a few inches and waits for the response.

“Did you just…?” Derek asks, hiding a laugh. “Did you just kiss me on the cheek?” 

“Yeah.”

“You’re drunk.”

“A little. But not that much. I mean it.”

Derek uses his free hand to grab Stiles’ chin and pull him into an actual (but brief) kiss. Stiles stares at him in disbelief.

“Date me so hard tomorrow night?” he asks, working through the shock of it as subtly as he can. 

“Okay,” Stiles says, nodding dumbly. “So just to confirm, you… are not pity dating me, right?”

“Definitely not.”

Stiles grins and surges forward again, throws his arms around his neck, and kisses Derek solidly on the lips. Derek gracelessly and shamelessly pulls Stiles into his lap. 

The rest of them come back before the kissing can get too out of control and they sit on opposite sides of the blanket blushing while they get mercilessly teased for the rest of the night. 

Derek wakes up to two texts from Stiles the next morning. One reads: “Last night happened right? We have a date tonight?” The other: “Oh and I came out to my dad in the car to get him to stop scolding me for being tipsy. I’m not sure if that’s a great coming out story or a terrible one. Thoughts?”

Derek’s cheeks hurt from grinning as he responds: “Yeah it happened. Yes we do. Eh I’d say that’s not the worst? What was his reaction?”

“He got a little choked up and hugged me for a long time. And then he resumed yelling about underage drinking in public.”

**

“He’s a really good kisser,” Stiles tells Scott while staring at himself in the mirror.

“So you said.”

“Do I look stupid?”

“You look how you always look,” Scott reasons. And he’s right. Stiles isn’t dressed any differently than usual. Maybe that’s a problem. But they’re just going for pizza, no one dresses up for pizza… 

“What if he wants to have sex?”

“Gross,” Scott mutters under his breath. “I don’t know, that’ll be up to you, bro.”

“I really don’t think we should have sex.”

“Then don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Glad that’s settled,” Scott says with a nod. “Are you seriously nervous about a date with _Derek_?”

“Yes!” And that sets him to pacing around until the doorbell rings. Scott raises both eyebrows at him and pulls a funny face. Stiles glares.

“Have fun, Romeo,” Scott says, shoving him toward his bedroom door ahead of him. 

“Hi, this is going to be awkward,” Stiles says the second he steps out onto the Stilinski porch.

“Hi, why?” Derek asks, _awkwardly_ reaching to set his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles shoots him a look and Derek seems to get it. 

“Okay, let’s try to make it not awkward?” Derek suggests, leading him down the steps to his car. 

But a silent, nervous car ride and a dead first ten minutes of sitting across from each other at the extremely casual restaurant is nothing but awkward.

“Alright,” Derek says, knocking his knuckles against the table top. “We’ve had the most graphic conversations possible, but we can’t just have dinner like normal people?” he asks.

Stiles sighs. “Guess so.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “We talk all the time, just… go. Say something.”

“I…”

“Ask me something,” Derek pleads.

“Uh… how’s that wedding planning going?” he asks. 

Derek stares at him with disbelief before he grins. “Really?”

“I panicked!”

“Fine,” Derek says. “Frank called me in a panic about Jess wanting them to write their own wedding vows. He’s a firefighter, he doesn’t think he’s good with words.”

And then it’s great. Stiles laughs along at Derek’s sarcastic retelling of stories about his group of friends, he asks about how he met them and what they’re like, he asks about Derek’s job. Derek asks him about his classes and his major and his future plans. It’s bizarre that they’ve never talked about these things. Stiles has interrogated Derek about his sexual proclivities but never even knew that he had gone to college or that he met one of his best friends when she rear ended him at a red light. 

When the date’s over, Stiles kisses him over the center console in his car. Hands soft on his neck, tongue in his mouth, breathing him in, desperately and entirely trying to communicate something he never thought a kiss could communicate… 

Derek slips one hand from his back to his thigh and he tugs at him until Stiles realizes he wants him in his lap. Stiles curses as he clumsily climbs over the console, Derek laughs against his mouth. They kiss for a bit longer before Stiles reaches for the car door handle.

“I should go inside,” Stiles says sadly and with a lot of face petting.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, nuzzling against his hand.

“So this went well?” Stiles asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling slowly and pulling Stiles back in for a quick kiss. “Scott’s inside waiting, you should go give him details.”

“Okay, yeah,” Stiles agrees, pressing his forehead against Derek’s. 

“And now he’s whispering threats at me, so you should go.” 

Stiles misses Derek’s grip on his waist the second it’s gone. “What kind of threats?”

“Typical best friend kinds but with a werewolf twist.”

Stiles hmmms sympathetically and pushes the driver side door open. “I’m going to text you aaaall about this date just for old time’s sake.” 

**

Stiles must wait until after he tells Scott all about it because Derek doesn’t get any texts from him for a couple hours. He takes that as a good sign.

“So I went on a date and it actually went really well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy, I think we might work out.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“Good kisser too.”

Derek feels giddy and light. “Good.”

“Probably going to see him again, idk.”

“You should,” Derek encourages. “You should see him tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. :) See you tomorrow.”

Derek figures the conversation is over and sets his phone down on the coffee table. He catches himself grinning at nothing and lets himself enjoy the quivering excitement of this new thing. And then his phone vibrates again. He dives for it, heart swelling and all, but it’s from Scott.

“Break his heart, break your face. Got it? :P” 

“Got it,” Derek answers, punctuating it with a thumbs up emoji.

“I want you to know that everything you do with him will be reported back to me and I already resent you for that.”

“It is what it is.” Derek smirks at his phone.

“It’s better than watching you two pine over each other, you have my blessing. :D”

Derek brings up the conversation with Scott to Stiles when he’s over the next day. 

“What a good alpha,” he says sarcastically, flopping onto the couch. “So I have a second date with this guy, _I think_ , but we never planned anything so…” He fakes a yawn and stretches his arm out to the side before patting the couch next to him.

Derek gladly sits and lets Stiles pull him even closer. “We could go see a movie,” Derek says. Stiles frowns. “We could go on a hike.” Stiles’ frown deepens. “We could go volunteer to plant trees or something.” Stiles has to push toward purely comical to get his frown more pronounced. “We could stay in and makeout on the couch.” Stiles nods very seriously.

“But if that’s all we do I’m going to be very tempted to drag you to the bedroom, so we should do something else too,” Stiles says, smoothing his hand over Derek’s chest. “And as you know, I am a man of morals, I am not promiscuous in any way whatsoever.” He smiles to go along with the joke.

Derek gently takes his face in his hands and looks him in the eye. “I’m not going to be thinking about anything but you and I do not care about your past partners, I hope you realize that.”

Stiles looks surprised, his heart beat elevates just slightly. “Okay.”

“And we’re not going to be having sex for a long time,” Derek adds. He flashes Stiles a taunting grin before pulling him into a kiss so he can't protest. The way Stiles melts into it makes Derek think he doesn’t mind that at all.

**

Stiles thinks this might be one of the best summers of all time. No homework, ample quality time with his dad and his friends, snagging a boyfriend… _The_ boyfriend, too. Stiles’ ideal. Hot, smart, funny, in the know about werewolves, already a member of the pack, etc, etc.

This summer also had _a lot_ of kissing. Sooooo much kissing. Stiles now fully appreciates making out as the art it should be. Derek’s really good at it. 

And Derek’s good at the other parts of being a boyfriend too which (even after about a year of getting to really know him over text messages and picking his brain for sex and relationship advice before all of this started up) surprises Stiles more than it should. 

Like Derek’s _so great_ to talk to. Stiles will never forget lying fully clothed in his bed in the middle of the afternoon while Derek finally told him all about his ex and how he had wanted to marry him and how he knew he couldn’t and how much all of that had sucked. That was the same conversation where Stiles told Derek he was in love with him. (“And I know we haven’t been _together_ together for that long but I’ve known you for awhile anyway and I already really cared about you before this but you are so amazing and I really do love you so don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m saying, Derek. You have no idea how I feel—“ “You just said how you feel so…” “Yeah well. Shut up.” “I love you too.”)

So things are great. Even when they get closer and closer to having to move back to school, Stiles is fine. It’s not like they’re that far away from home anyway. Derek can come visit, they can keep texting and calling and when Stiles tried to teach Derek how to Skype, Derek already knew how so that was encouraging. (“When will you guys stop acting like I’ve never seen technology?” Derek had sighed as he clicked on the already present icon on his desktop just to humor Stiles.)

“So what’s the plan?” Stiles asks when he gets to Derek’s loft at the designated date time about a week before the end of summer. “That one movie you bitched about for half an hour is out, let’s go make you suffer through that,” he says when Derek doesn’t immediately emerge. “Derek? I’m taking your silence as a yes to my suggestion.”

“No,” Derek says, appearing at the top of the spiral stairs.

“So close,” Stiles sighs. He holds his arms out and makes grabby hands at Derek until he’s close enough to hug. 

“Let’s stay in,” Derek suggests.

“Works for me.”

“And you should spend the night,” he murmurs, finger tips slipping under Stiles’ shirt to rest on the bare skin of his hip.

“Okay,” Stiles agrees easily. There’s nothing unusual about staying over, Stiles has done it plenty of times. But something about the way Derek’s touching him feels a little different. 

They try to focus on a movie for awhile but it devolves into kissing and Derek gently, so so gently, gets Stiles onto his back underneath him on the couch. And kisses his jaw and touches him with firm, warm, doting pressure. Stiles hooks his elbow around his neck to keep him from going anywhere. He slides his other hand under his shirt and around to rest on his lower back.

Stiles lets himself get lost in the feeling of connection and the swirling self-reflective thoughts that tend to accompany that. He wonders if he would have been able to say “it’s like kissing… but a dude” if Derek had been his first kiss with a guy. Because kissing Derek isn’t like anything else. And he wonders now how he could have ever doubted that he’d actually like being in a relationship because he _really_ likes this. 

Derek shoves one hand between the couch and the back of Stiles’ thigh and tugs until Stiles bends his knee and lets Derek settle even more against him. Stiles gets the hint and bends his other knee too, bracketing Derek’s hips with his legs. Derek makes a desperate near-whimper against his lips. 

Stiles laughs. He doesn’t know why but he does. He’s found himself in this position quite a few times, and this position but with the roles reversed just as often. 

“Hm?” Derek asks, lifting his head to look at him, eyes looking a little glazed over and his hair a wreck from Stiles’ dragging his hand through it.

“This is going to head somewhere if we don’t stop soon,” Stiles admits, pushing Derek’s hair off his forehead. 

“Do you want it to?” Derek asks. He pushes himself up so he’s hovering over Stiles. 

“Yeah, I do,” Stiles says.

Derek gets off him and has him slung over his shoulder before Stiles can even register the loss of his body heat. He laughs and squirms as Derek takes him up the sorta suspect stairs and tosses him on the bed. 

It’s cheesy to say, Stiles knows, but time gets really fluid and meaningless for a bit there. 

Derek kisses him senseless and his hands massage his arms and shoulders and chest and Stiles claws at Derek’s shirt until he finally gets a good enough hold of it to pull it off. Stiles’ skin feels hot under Derek’s hands when he drags one up from Stiles’ chest to his neck to his cheek. With his thighs tightly clamped around Derek’s hips, he sits up just enough to yank his shirt off. He hooks his fingers in Derek’s waistband the second his back hits the mattress again. 

Derek undresses himself and Stiles at a glacial pace but Stiles isn’t complaining. Seeing more and more of Derek’s toned, tanned skin and feeling more and more of it against him is treat enough. But then when it gets to Derek’s mouth getting further and further away from Stiles’ face and neck and closer to his stomach, Stiles actually gets nervous.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks, looking up instantly. 

“I uh, nothing.”

Derek crawls back up his body and looks him in the eye. “I felt you tense up, talk to me.”

Stiles isn’t used to this with someone he cares about. He hadn’t even considered the pressure of impressing someone he’s going to keep seeing and talking to and loving. It’s weird. But Derek’s so in tune with him and he’s always so careful and reverent and… Stiles smiles up at him, holds his head in his hands and kisses him. 

“You told me this would be a whole new level,” Stiles whispers. 

Derek smiles, catching the reference to a conversation that seems light years away. 

“Yeah I did.”

“Prove it.”

“I intend to.”

And he does. From kissing the inside of Stiles’ thigh and taking him into his mouth, from carefully getting him ready to actually pushing into him. It’s the best sex Stiles has ever had, hands down. 

Stiles is panting and buzzing all over when Derek collapses on top of him, mouth instantly on Stiles’ neck.

“I just got slow boned,” Stiles tells him, one hand coming up to pat him on the back of the head. 

“You’re such a romantic. Did I prove my point?”

“Uh huh. The slow bone rules.”

Derek pinches his side and laughs against his throat. Stiles nuzzles against the side of his head and lets his eyes slip shut. 

“Yeah the slow bone does rule,” Derek mutters after a long stretch of sleepy silence. He rolls off of Stiles and pulls him against his chest as he goes. Stiles takes a deep breath and tucks himself under Derek’s chin. “Slow bone is a stupid phrase,” Derek muses.

“It’s better than _making love_.”

Derek considers that. “Only marginally.” 

“Nah, it’s way better,” Stiles murmurs.

“No it isn’t.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No.”

“Fine then, we _made love_.”

Derek sighs. “Alright, alright, slow bone is better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at endings usually AND I HAVE FADE-TO-BLACK-ITIS, sry. <3
> 
> "Waiting By His Phone" is a lyric from Best Coast's "Boyfriend." (~I hope that he's at home waiting by his phone, I wonder if he knows that I want him~)


End file.
